He stood in the sand pit, and gazed up, at the older children in the play house. They were pulling up a bucket of sand, with a rope. It certainly looked like fun! He admired the ease with which they climbed up and down the ladder.
He looked at his mother nervously, and staggered through the sand. He made a thorough study of the ladder, the rungs looked alright, it was the space between them, that worried him. As he pulled himself up, the early spring breeze brushed through his golden hair. He shivered and gripped the rung above him, and paused for a minute. The wind tickled his 'tummy' through the lose untucked T-shirt. He giggled. Then he kept a steady foot on the next rung and continued with greater enthusiasm.
When he reached the top, he threw himself down on all-four, and slithered on the floor of the play-house. Then he stood up and smiled, to the world, well below his feet; his hazel-blue eyes shone with pride.
"Mama" he called out to his mother.
His mother took her cigarette from her lips and smiled.
The older children were throwing sand at each other. At first, he thought this was fun, he grabbed a fist-full of sand, and threw aimlessly. But pretty soon, he was tired of this barbaric act. He wanted to go back to the safety of the ground. He stood near the ladder, and gazed down worriedly, at the height he had conquered.
'Was that really a good idea?', he wiped his brow. The rungs of the ladder looked scary.
"Mama", he yelled helplessly. Take me!
His mother was talking to a friend, she waved at him.
Now he was really in trouble. The rungs looked unconquerable on the way down.
When I held out my hands, I was suddenly aware of their 'brownness'. I was worried, that he would find them strange. But I was wrong, he almost jumped into my arms, and hugged me tight, with his little white hands.
And when I put him down, he smiled. He must be two, not more than that.
I want to hold on to this feeling..
He looked at his mother nervously, and staggered through the sand. He made a thorough study of the ladder, the rungs looked alright, it was the space between them, that worried him. As he pulled himself up, the early spring breeze brushed through his golden hair. He shivered and gripped the rung above him, and paused for a minute. The wind tickled his 'tummy' through the lose untucked T-shirt. He giggled. Then he kept a steady foot on the next rung and continued with greater enthusiasm.
When he reached the top, he threw himself down on all-four, and slithered on the floor of the play-house. Then he stood up and smiled, to the world, well below his feet; his hazel-blue eyes shone with pride.
"Mama" he called out to his mother.
His mother took her cigarette from her lips and smiled.
The older children were throwing sand at each other. At first, he thought this was fun, he grabbed a fist-full of sand, and threw aimlessly. But pretty soon, he was tired of this barbaric act. He wanted to go back to the safety of the ground. He stood near the ladder, and gazed down worriedly, at the height he had conquered.
'Was that really a good idea?', he wiped his brow. The rungs of the ladder looked scary.
"Mama", he yelled helplessly. Take me!
His mother was talking to a friend, she waved at him.
Now he was really in trouble. The rungs looked unconquerable on the way down.
When I held out my hands, I was suddenly aware of their 'brownness'. I was worried, that he would find them strange. But I was wrong, he almost jumped into my arms, and hugged me tight, with his little white hands.
And when I put him down, he smiled. He must be two, not more than that.
I want to hold on to this feeling..
